


Damaged

by BarricadeKitten (Dominatrix)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A tiny tiny bit of angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Grantaire plays nurse, Grantaire says the sweetest things, Holding Hands, M/M, Not in an indecent way though, Pining, Pining Enjolras, SO MUCH FLUFF, general adorableness, hurt!enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/BarricadeKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a protest that goes wrong, Grantaire has to patch Enjolras up again.<br/>He doesn't mind as much as he probably should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> God, I'm such a sucker for this pairing. It's terrible. (No it's not. I love it.)  
> Love, Liz x

„What the  _fuck_ were you thinking?“  


The door to Enjolras and Combeferre's flat is being slammed shut forcefully when Grantaire all but storms past Combeferre without even a single glance to stop right in front of the couch, which shelters a bruised and bloody Enjolras.

Combeferre chooses to flee the battlefield that would surely soon call for their victims. Experience told him that Grantaire and Enjolras are lashing out so widely they actually sometimes manage to hurt other people with their sharp words and rough voices. Which makes another thing to fix for them.

Today, he's not ready for that. His head still hurts from where he slammed it against a deep-hanging obstacle on his „Oh man shit's about to go down better get out quickly“ escape route. He is sure that if he moans enough Courfeyrac will treat him gladly.

The door closes with a soft click, leaving only Grantaire and Enjolras behind.

„I'm really not in the mood“ Enjolras mutters lowly. It is obvious that every word hurts. Grantaire snorts and yells over his shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom to get all their medical first aid stuff.

„Well, shitty to be you, then. Shirt off.“

When he comes back, hands full with bandages, iodine, a small bowl filled with warm water and a pair of tweezers, Enjolras is still struggling to pull the shirt over his head. Grantaire drops everything on the couch table and puts his hands on Enjolras's almost gently.

„Wait. You'll dislocate your shoulder if you continue yanking on your shirt like that. Let me.“

With a small grunt Enjolras lets Grantaire take his shirt off, and lies down against the numerous pillows Combeferre has propped up against his back after he half-dragged, half-carried him into their flat. When he looks down on his body, he sees a few bruises that look rather nasty, and some of them already bloom in various shades of blue and purple.

Grantaire scowls at him while he washes his hands in the open kitchen, keeping a concerned eye on Enjolras the whole time.

None of them can still remember when Grantaire became the official tender of wounds, but it seems like he is the best in patching his friends up again. It's not always protest-aftercare, more often than not it's things like a bad cut with the knife in their finger (Courfeyrac), a twisted ankle (Éponine) or a heat stroke (Marius, poor sensitive redhead that he is).

With Enjolras, though, it's always this kind of injury. Glass splinters in the skin of his hands and arms, mild concussions, bruises. Loads and loads of bruises.

Grantaire hates it, hates picking him up again when Enjolras is obviously of the opinion that he is _indestructible_. But he knows Enjolras refuses to go the hospital unless Grantaire tells him to.

It's actually the only time Enjolras listens to what he says, thinking about it.

Grantaire starts feeling up his ribcage, letting his fingers ghost over Enjolras's skin, waiting for the treacherous shift underneath his touch that tells him he broke a rib this time. Until this day, it has never happened. He never broke a bone. Maybe Enjolras _is_ indestructible, up to some point.

„On a scale from one to Shit please kill me right now, how bad is your headache?“ Grantaire asks. He sounds almost gentle, but Enjolras can hear the suppressed anger in his voice. 

„Alright, actually. I got a nasty punch which made me see stars, but I'm surprisingly okay.“ He stares up to the ceiling, sometimes hissing in pain when Grantaire presses against his skin too forcefully.

They never really talk during their...sessions. They did it once and ended up arguing so harshly that Enjolras tried to run out of the flat and fainted on the way to the door because he had a concussion and got up too quickly. From that point on, Grantaire started to avoid the topic of why exactly Enjolras looks the way he does.

„I'm so glad you didn't die today“ Grantaire mumbles while he wets a towel and carefully drags it over Enjolras's brow, which is crusted with blood.

„That leaves me the chance to smash your beautiful head against a wall myself.“

Enjolras snorts, winces because of the sharp pain coming from his ribs, and tries to remember more about the sentence than the fact that Grantaire has just called him beautiful.

„I would love to see you try“ he replies hoarsely, his voice all rough and used up from today.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Grantaire smile, but when he looks down into his face, all he sees is concentration as his face and neck is being cleaned up.

„You won't need any stitches today“ Grantaire decides when he is done and skimming his gaze over Enjolras's face and body. It's not as bad as he always fears it will be when Combeferre texts him.

„Thanks, R. Really.“ Enjolras smiles up at him, and suddenly he is exhausted, after all the adrenaline has been washed out.

Grantaire kneels down beside him, and pushes a strand of blong hair out of Enjolras's face. He looks obviously concerned.

„I know you won't listen to me, but...Be careful. I can't lose you.“ His voice is quiet, and his words are fast, and Enjolras is not sure he has really just heard that. Apparently, his eyes mirror his disbelief, and Grantaire is quick to correct himself.

„We. I meant we.“

Enjolras nods sleepily, and yawns, wincing again when he draws too much air into his lungs.

„Come here?“ It's not an order, it's a careful question when he stretches out his arms weakly. Grantaire, his brow furrowed, leans forward and lets himself be caged by Enjolras's arms willingly, hesitating for a second because he flings his arms around the blond man as carefully as he can in his relief.

„I won't leave you“ Enjolras whispers into his ear, one hand buried in Grantaire's hair. „I'll always come back to you, R.“

It's unspoken but still obvious that right now in this moment he doesn't mean his friends. He only means _him_. Only Grantaire. Maybe, one day Grantaire will start to see it.

„I was so fucking scared when 'Ferre texted me saying you were gone and not answering your phone. Don't you do that to me again, Enjolras. Ever.“

Enjolras smiles against Grantaire's neck. „I'll try to obey.“

Grantaire slowly pulls away, paying attention that Enjolras sinks down against the pillows without moving too fast.

„Do you want me to stay?“ he asks gently.

Enjolras smiles at him again, taking Grantaire's hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. „I would like that“ he replies softly.

  


And that's how Combeferre finds them two hours later when he dares to enter his flat again.

Grantaire is half-lying, half-sitting on the carpet, leaned against the couch, one hand holding Enjolras's, the other splayed over his own stomach.

Enjolras himself still looks rough around the edges, but peaceful. Lying on his side, he is facing Grantaire with a soft expression in his sleep, and Combeferre swears that he has never seen that smile on his face before.

When Enjolras wakes up, he carefully runs his free hand through Grantaire's curls  until the other man blinks at him sleepily.

„Hi“ he mumbles, and squeezes Enjolras's hand softly. Enjolras's gaze slides down to their intertwined hands.

„Huh“ he says thoughtfully. „I thought I'd dreamt that.“

Grantaire chuckles. „You would actually dream about holding my hand?“

„Oh, I did, a few times“ he replies. His eyes widen in panic when he realises.

„Can we please blame everything I said on the painkillers?“ His voice is tiny, and desperate.

The other man just arches his back with a content moan, but keeps the grip on Enjolras's hand. „You didn't take any.“

„Concussion?“ Enjolras asks hopefully.

„You could just ask me out on an outright date and hold my hand in real life, you know.“

The speed with which Enjolras snaps his head around to face Grantaire properly makes something in his neck crack and his head spin.

„You would...go out with me?“

Grantaire just smiles and strokes a fingertip over his jaw. „You massive dork. If I had known earlier I would have asked you months ago. Do you really think I would do that for everyone: Sleep sitting on a carpet when I have a perfectly fine bed at home, and nearly dislocate my shoulder just to hold their hand while I'm not even conscious?“

Enjolras shrugs. „I didn't really think.“

Grantaire kneels up again, still a gentle expression on his face. „Yea, I could tell.“

„Can you come down to me? Like, a bit closer?“ Enjolras asks.

„Why?“

„Because I can't get up, but I would really like to kiss you right now.“

Grantaire's face nearly splits in two when he smiles this time. Bowing over Enjolras, he places a soft peck on the other man's lips, and chuckles when he hears Enjolras wince as he pulls away.

„No heavy making out until your bruises are fading. Doctor's orders.“

Enjolras mumbles something about how Grantaire is not even a real doctor and can't tell him shit, but stops muttering when Grantaire takes the opportunity to kiss his way over Enjolras's jaw up to his temple.

When he makes his way down again, he takes Enjolras's bottom lip between his teeth carefully before kissing him the way he actually wants to, the way he has wanted to for months now.

Breathless, the two part after a while, and Enjolras cocks an eyebrow at him. „What was that with doctor's orders?“

Grantaire grins widely, running a thumb over Enjolras's cheekbone. „Oh, I know the guy. I'm sure he won't mind.“

**Author's Note:**

> Come to my tumblr rebooting-is-for-cheesecakes.tumblr.com and say hi :)


End file.
